


Drunken Mishaps

by angee1011



Series: Long Game [1]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, NSFW, Nudes, Stydia, Teen Wolf, after season five, drunk, drunken mishaps, like a month after season five ends, lydia martin - Freeform, prequel to the long game, stiles stilinski - Freeform, takes place before season six
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 15:19:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10833942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angee1011/pseuds/angee1011
Summary: This is a prequel to my Stydia piece: the Long Game. I hope you enjoy this. This is what happens when Lydia gets into her mom's wine collection.





	Drunken Mishaps

**Author's Note:**

> Family stuff happening tonight, so to take my mind off of it, here’s a little something for those of you who’ve been reading my fic. This is how it all starts. Stydia. Kinda NSFW. (Just a smidge.) Canon-compliant. Sorta. Enjoy. 
> 
> I do not own these characters.

She’s had a little too much to drink.

It’s that line between deliciously warm all over and _I don’t give a fuck_.

And let the record be clear. She doesn’t. At all.

The reasons for why this is wrong try to make themselves heard, but there’s simply too much swimming around her brain to make much sense of anything other than where she is, what she’s doing currently, and what she’s about to do.

Which is turning the camera on her phone toward the full-length mirror in front her and posing for a few scantily-clad shots. 

She is wearing her favorite set of lingerie–the dark green one with the black accents around the top of the cups and over the edges of the panties. There is a lot of skin showing, and she angles her body in very enticing ways as she taps her phone to take each picture.

When she is satisfied with the results of subtly editing her favorites, she taps on her messages and hits the most recent contact’s name.

The most recent is also her most frequent.

That warm feeling–and a surprisingly loud voice in her head–is egging her on, and she doesn’t hesitate in sending all three photos.

A smile grows on her face. It’s a little bolder than she’s used to playing, but her opponent was going to be worth it.

As she’s waiting for a response, she falls asleep sprawled out on her bed, that warm feeling being too much for her handle. And when the sun begins to peek through her window, eliciting a groan from her and a pounding behind her forehead, that’s when hears the sound of her phone buzzing from where she tossed it haphazardly last night.

She reads the message before swiping right to unlock her phone.

 _OH MY GOD_ , it says. Oh my god? What?

And when she sees the who, the what, and remembers the why, her cheeks heat and her heart constricts in her chest.

“OH MY GOD,” she whispers.


End file.
